4:44 a.m. THUNK… dog panting
(Must be a cat jumping off the couch, or Hubby getting up and taking the dog out….zzzzzzz)
6:38 a.m. BANG.. dog panting
(wth? Maybe something is wrong..)
I turn on my light and notice there are no cats on my bed. Strange. I creep to the door and peek out into the living room, barely identifying My Hero laying on the couch; until he turns his eerie green gaze my way. “Hello Scout!”
I notice Sally staring intently at the apex of the cathedral ceiling. My office is in the loft behind where she is staring. She is rigid with intent and suddenly hisses loudly.
I take a few steps into the living room and movement catches my eye just as a flying critter circles the ceiling fan and dips down toward my head. The two cats and one dog feel they need to audibly alert me to The Enemy.
I duck and run for Hubby’s door. I open it and awaken him with the words that every husband loves to hear first thing in the morning from his loving wife’s lips. “Get up! There’s a bat in the living room!!”
He replies with a groggy “Huh?” and barely moves. Instantly picturing him sleeping through my attempts at whacking The Enemy with my baseball bat, I urgently repeat my request.
He seems to have no anxiety or sense of concern for time when it comes to capturing The Enemy. He dresses casually and decides the dogs need to go out and watched while they do their morning “thing”, and leaves me to monitor events. The Enemy makes another swooping circle, this time closer to my head, and I dart for the safety of the powder room, because now I have to do my “thing” as well!
Hubby is out with the dogs, I’m hiding in the powder room.
I open the door to the sounds of squeaking and the sight of My Hero in the corner with alert ears. By the strident sounds of the distraught Enemy, I know My Hero has somehow managed to either cause injury or to defeat The Enemy. Now my fear is that My Hero will himself become injured. (Silly me, do you see the amount of FUR on My Hero?? It’s like armor!)
I fling the door open to the front porch. Hubby is seated and calmly awaiting for the dogs to return.
“Get in here!! I think Scout has caught it!!” I yell, as I race for the cover of the family room. “There is a coffee can on the counter!”
(Oddly enough, I had emptied that can about a week ago and thinking that surely I’d need an empty coffee can for SOMETHING, I’d kept it around)
Hubby donned some gloves, grabbed said coffee can and returned minutes later. He opened the door to my sanctuary and thrust the can towards me. It was SQUEAKING terribly. I may have freaked out a bit, cowered and hid my head in my hands. Maybe.
“What do you want me to do with it?”, he asked.
Really? I mean, we could save it for a snack or something, right?
“Put it outside, but don’t let it out of the can.”
Now, I’m not trying to punish the small thing that is obviously terrified in that can, but I have to check My Hero first and make sure he’s unhurt. If he’s been injured, I’m going to need The Enemy to be sure it isn’t carrying a disease.
My Hero Scout eventually calmed down from his status of high alert and sat still long enough for me to inspect him. He seems perfectly fine, but I don’t know if he bit The Enemy or not (and I am NOT opening the can), so as much as it disturbs me, I think The Enemy may perish in solitary confinement unless I can find a vet on a Sunday and ask if it can be granted a pardon.